Shallow
by Dumpfmoebel
Summary: As predicted, it's nothing more than scratching an insignificant itch. Rated M for sex.


If Makoto is feeling any discomfort, it is invisible to Haruka, or rather than that, he chooses to disregard it. Why should he consider anything his friend hides beneath an encouraging smile intentionally, obviously not wanting anyone to pay attention to it in his usual, dog-like selflessness?

And it's not like his cheeks aren't flushed a deep pink when he looks up from Haruka's stomach before he presses a moist kiss there, sighing against the firm skin his lips give in to. It's not like he didn't lean into his mouth earlier, opening it readily and licking his tongue, and he had never uttered "Haru, what are you doing?" less hesistantly before. It's not like he expected an answer to that, because he knew very well and he still knows, and Haruka finds the way he keeps gazing up at him, as if to make sure he's still there, slightly annoying, as well as the feeling of breath against his half-hard length.

"It's fucking amazing", he can still hear a boy behind him on his way to school whisper to another, "like, it feels so good, you just forget everything else! And seeing girls that way… they are so cute!" They were, of course, talking about sex, something Haruka finds unnecessary and boring; at least that's what he has always imagined it to be like, just as dully pleasurable as eating a single candy or sitting in front of a fan during hot summers, a sensation of relief that merely scrapes the surface of one's body. But he listened to the boys describing it with phrases that remind him of cold liquid surrounding him everywhere, drowning out the noise and the sweat and the feeling of overstimulated dread, of the deep, deep connection he feels when the water embraces him, the countless repulsive emotions crawling over him being washed away gently.

Now, his need to see if there is any truth to their excited mumbles is unexplainable to himself. Makoto's mouth is carefully taking in his tip, his hand on the base, guiding Haruka past his lips, and while it isn't exactly horrible, it tingles, and it burns a bit, and other than that, there is nothing.

Makoto has trouble covering all of it with his mouth. Saliva runs down his chin as he moves back and forth with his jaw tense and stiff and his eyes fixating Haruka's face. They glisten with a kind of happiness that makes Haruka want to look away, a disgusting kind, and his eyelids shut.

He sighs, partly because he is thankful for not having to look at the head between his legs anymore, but also because this way, the throbbing grows stronger, as if his insides have entered a slow cycle of melting away and tensing up with every time he slides in and out of the moist warmth. Haruka wonders how something this simple and predictable can amaze someone to the point of ruining the lives of other persons or even their own. It's always the same, a steady build-up, like waves crashing into the beach repeatedly while the tide claims more and more of the sand, but he'd rather be taken away by the flood now, drifting out into the sea until there is no longer a horizon or a shore, only salty blue, than feel a parody of it inside his body while someone is licking and sucking on his skin clumsily.

Then again, isn't it cruel of himself? That he kissed Makoto because he knows that he will do Haruka any favor, even jump into an icy river to drag his body out despite his own fear, and that this is something he is doing gladly, probably still observing his friend's face to see if he is giving him anything valuable?

He can feel his own legs weaken as the sensations try to take hold of him and he prays that it'll be over soon, shaking them off like insects and almost simultaneously being unable to hold back a quiet moan as he realizes he won't have to wait much longer and the tension grips the entirety of his muscles.

Makoto chokes and coughs, making a mess of himself and the bedsheets. "Ah, sorry", he mumbles – of course, he apologizes immediately – and wipes his mouth and chin dry. Haruka stares at him who is panting a bit, an obvious bulge in his untouched pants, but soon is convinced that waiting for him to ask for reciprocation is futile. With a sigh, he moves off the mattress, his body so exhausted he wants to frown at the waste of energy.

"I'll take a shower." He picks up his shirt and closes the bedroom door behind him. Makoto's house is empty with his parents still at work and his siblings playing outside, and Haruka dresses himself while walking through the living room before he leaves, hoping that his friend will forget about this stupid, useless thing they just did and not mention it to him ever again.

But knowing Makoto, he's sure he doesn't have to fear anything.


End file.
